bcornwell.sharpescompany-第21部分

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lready　promoted　him　Captain　once。　It　was　not　Wellington's　fault　that　the　gazette　had　been　refused；　if　it　had；　or　that　a　lawyer　had　sold　a　mission　illegally。　It　happened　all　the　time。　'I　can't　run　to　him　every　time　there's　trouble。'　He　shrugged。　'Something'll　turn　up；　Patrick；　it　always　does。'
　
　Harper；　unappeased；　slammed　a　fist　against　a　wall；　startling　a　sleeping　dog。　'I　don't　believe　it！　They　can't　do　it！'
　
　'They　can。'
　
　Then　they're　fools。'　Harper　thought　for　a　second。　'Would　you　be　thinking　of　moving　on？'
　
　'Where？'
　
　'Back　to　the　Rifles？'
　
　'I　don't　know。　Nothing's　certain　yet。　Anyway；　the　Rifles　have　all　the　officers　they　need；　and　then　more。'
　
　'So　you　have　thought　about　it。'　Harper　nodded　to　himself。　'Would　you　promise　me　something？〃
　
　Sharpe　smiled。　'I　know；　and　the　answer's　yes。'
　
　'By　God；　I'll　not　stay　on　here　without　you。　I'll　go　back　to　the　Rifles　with　you。　You　need　someone　sensible　near　you。'
　
　They　parted　at　the　officers'　house；　just　as　the　great　cloud　bank　engulfed　Elvas　in　shadow　and　a　promise　of　rain。　Sharpe　paused　in　the　archway。　'I'll　see　you　at　four。'
　
　'Aye；　sir；　I　hope　it's　you。'　There　was　to　be　a　parade　at　four　at　which　Colonel　Windham　would　inspect　his　new　battalion。
　
　Sharpe　nodded。　'So　do　I。　Make　it　a　good　turn…out。'
　
　He　did　not　know　where　Windham　would　be；　so　he　paused　in　the　hallway　and　saw　the　array　of　clean；　new　shakoes　on　the　table。　He　could　not　face　the　big　room；　the　Mess；　the　pitying　glances　of　his　fellow…officers　and　the　inevitable　confrontation　with　Rymer；　so　he　stayed　in　the　hall　and　stared　at　a　huge；　gloomy　painting　of　a　white…cassocked　priest　who　was　being　burned　at　a　stake。　The　soldiers　who　stoked　the　faggots　were　mean…faced；　weaselly；　and　obviously　intended　to　be　the　English；　while　the　suffering　priest　had　an　ethereal　look　of　forgiveness　and　martyrdom。　Sharpe　hoped　the　bastard　had　hurt。
　
　'Captain　Sharpe？'　He　turned。　A　small　Major　with　a　clipped　moustache　was　looking　at　him　from　a　doorway。
　
　'Sir？'
　
　'Collett。　Major　Collett。　Pleased　to　make　your　acquaintance；　Sharpe。　Heard　of　you；　of　course。　This　way。'
　
　Sharpe　was　regretting　his　lack　of　charity　to　the　long　burned　priest；　wondering　if　the　evil　wish　would　bring　him　bad　luck；　so　he　looked　up　at　the　painting　and　winked　at　the　man。　'Sorry。'
　
　'What's　that；　Sharpe？'
　
　'Nothing；　sir；　nothing。'　He　followed　Collett　into　the　parlor　of　the　house；　a　room　hung　with　more　gloomy；　religious　pictures　and　with　vast；　brown　curtains　that　seemed　to　enclose　the　room　in　premature　night。　Colonel　Windham　was　at　a　low　table；　feeding　scraps　of　meat　to　his　dogs；　and　he　did　not　look　up　as　Collett　led　Sharpe　into　the　room。
　
　'Sir！　This　is　Sharpe；　sir！'　Collett　could　have　been　Windham's　twin；　the　same　bowed；　horseman's　legs；　the　same　leathery　skin；　and　the　same　cropped　grey　hair；　but；　as　the　Colonel　looked　up；　Sharpe　saw　shrewd　lines　on　Windham's　face　that　were　lacking　on　the　Major。　The　Colonel　nodded　affably。　'You　like　dogs；　Sharpe？'
　
　'Yes；　sir。'
　
　'Faithful　beasts；　Sharpe。　Feed　'em　regular；　kick　'em　often；　and　they'll　do　anything　for　you。　Just　like　soldiers；　yes？'
　
　'Yes；　sir。　'　He　was　standing　awkwardly；　shako　in　hand；　and　Windham　waved　him　towards　a　chair。
　
　'Brought　the　beasts　with　me。　I　hear　there's　some　decent　sport　to　be　had。　Do　you　hunt；　Sharpe？'
　
　'No；　sir。'
　
　'Fine　sport！　Fine　sport！'　He　was　holding　a　scrap　of　beef　high；　teasing　a　hound　with　it　so　that　the　dog　jumped　vainly；　higher　and　higher；　until　Windham　dropped　the　food　and　the　dog　snapped　it　in　mid　air；　and　took　it；　growling；　beneath　the　table。　'Shouldn't　spoil　'em；　of　course。　Bad　for　them。　That's　Jessica；　my　wife。　'　He　was　pointing　to　the　table。
　
　'Your　what；　sir？'
　
　'Wife；　Sharpe；　wife。　Wife's　called　Jessica。　Colonel's　Lady；　and　that　sort　of　thing。　Mrs。　Windham。'　He　offered　the　various　categories　of　his　wife　in　a　rapid　voice　and　Sharpe　understood　that　he　was　not　referring　to　the　dog　beneath　the　table；　but　to　an　oval　portrait；　about　six　inches　high；　that　stood　above　the　dog。　The　portrait　was　mounted　in　a　superb　filigree　silver　frame　and　it　showed　a　woman　with　dark；　severe　hair；　a　receding　chin；　and　an　expression　of　terrifying　disapproval。　Sharpe　had　the　distinct　feeling　that　the　chewing　dog　would　be　a　better　panion；　but　the　Colonel's　face　softened　as　he　looked　at　the　painting。　'A　good　woman；　Sharpe；　a　good　woman。　A　force　for　the　good　in　society。'
　
　'Yes；　sir。'　Sharpe　was　beginning　to　feel　slightly　confused。　He　had　e　to　the　meeting　expecting　to　be　told　about　the　pany；　about　Rymer；　even　to　be　reprimanded　for　the　fracas　at　the　stable　yard；　but；　instead；　the　new　Colonel　of　the　Battalion　was　extolling　the　virtues　of　a　good　wife。
　
　'She　takes　a　keen　interest；　Sharpe；　very　keen。　Knows　about　you。　Wrote　to　me　when　I　said　I　was　getting　the　Battalion　and　sent　me　a　scrap　from　a　newspaper。　She　thinks　you've　done　well；　Sharpe。'
　
　'Yes；　sir。'
　
　'She's　eager　to　see　people　better　themselves。　Isn't　that　true；　Jack？'
　
　'Indeed；　sir。'　Collett　rapped　the　words　out　with　an　alacrity　that　made　Sharpe　wonder　if　Collett's　role　in　life　was　to　agree　with　everything　the　Colonel　said。　Windham　put　the　portrait　back　on　the　table。　He　had　been　holding　it；　cradling　it　between　his　hands。
　
　'What　was　that　business　about　this　morning；　Sharpe？'
　
　'A　private　argument；　sir。　It's　been　dealt　with。'　He　felt　a　stab　of　satisfaction　at　the　memory　of　punching　Hakeswill。
　
　Windham　was　not　satisfied。　'What　was　the　argument　about？'
　
　'The　girl　was　insulted；　sir。'
　
　'I　see。'　The　expression　was　one　of　profound　disapproval。　'Local　girl？'
　
　'Spanish；　sir。　'
　
　'Following　the　troops；　no　doubt。　I　want　the　women　cleared　out；　Sharpe。　Proper　wives　can　stay；　of　course；　but　there　are　too　many　whores。　Looks　bad。　Clear　them　out！'
　
　'I'm　sorry；　sir？'
　
　'The　whores；　Sharpe。　You're　to　clear　them　out。　'　Windham　nodded　as　if；　the　mand　being　given；　the　deed　was　as　well　as　done。　Sharpe　saw　him　glance；　very　quickly；　at　the　portrait　of　the　stern　Jessica　and　the　Rifleman　suspected　that　Mrs。　Windham's　keen　interest　in　the　Battalion　extended；　by　letter；　to　its　moral　welfare。
　
　'Where　do　I　clear　them　to；　sir？'
　
　'What　do　you　mean？'
　
　'The　next　battalion；　sir？〃
　
　Collett　stiffened；　but　Windham　did　not　take　offence。　'I　take　your　point；　Sharpe；　but　I　want　them　discouraged。　Understand？　I　shall　make　an　example　of　men　caught　brawling　over　women。'
　
　'Yes；　sir。'　The　Colonel　obviously　intended　being　busy。
　
　'Number　two；　Sharpe。　Battalion's　wives　are　to　parade　for　inspection　each　Sunday。　Ten　of　the　forenoon。　You　parade　them；　I'll　inspect　them。'
　
　'A　wives'　inspection；　sir。　Yes；　sir。'　Sharpe　kept　his　thoughts　to　himself。　Such　a　parade　was　not　unusual　in　England；　but　it　was　rare　in　Spain。　Officially　the　wives　were　subject　to　army　discipline；　though　very　few　of　them　accepted　the　fact；　and　Sharpe　suspected　that　the　ing　Sundays　would　be　amusing；　if　nothing　else。　But　why　him？　Why　not　one　of　the　Majors；　or　even　the　Sergeant　Major？
　
　'Ten　o'clock；　Sharpe。　And　I　don't　want　any　unmarried　women　on　parade。　Tell　'em　that。　I'll　demand　papers。　I　want　no　one　like　that　girl　this　morning！'
　
　'That　was　my　wife；　sir。'　Sharpe　had　no　idea　why　he　said　it；　unless　it　was　to　puncture　Windham's　air　of　certainty；　and　it　worked。　The　Colonel's　mouth　dropped；　he　looked　to　Collett　for　help；　received　none；　and　stared　back　at　Sharpe。
　
　'What？'
　
　'My　wife；　sir。　Mrs。　Sharpe。'
　
　'Good　God。'　The　Colonel　leafed　through　papers　that　were　beside　his　own　wife's　portrait。　'There's　no　note　here　of　your　marriage。'
　
　'It　was　private；　sir。'
　
　'When？　Who　gave　permission？〃
　
　'Sixteen　months　ago；　sir。　'　He　smiled　at　the　Colonel。　'We　have　a　daughter；　nearly　eight　months　old。　'
　
　He　could　see　the　Colonel　adding　up　the　figures；　receiving　the　wrong　answer；　and　the　discrepancy　effectually　stopped　any　more　questioning。　Windham　was　embarrassed。　'Owe　you　an　apology；　Sharpe。　No　offence；　I　trust。'
　
　'None；　sir。'　Sharpe　smiled　seraphically。
　
　'Lives　with　the　Battalion；　does　she？　Mrs。　Sharpe？'
　
　'No；　sir。　In　Spain。　She　has　employment　there。'
　
　'E